


Let's Go Home

by cardiac_arrest



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining pining and more pining to come, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-01-15 02:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardiac_arrest/pseuds/cardiac_arrest
Summary: Morgan takes his own shoes off, neatly, and goes to kick Jake’s shoes back onto the mat they have beside the front door. Jake should be glad that Morgan isn’t going to beat him into the ground this time; it isn’t winter yet and Jake’s shoes aren’t tracking slush and mud into their place.“You also need to pick up the dry cleaning,” Morgan says, trailing Jake.Jake picks up the cheap basketball lying at the foot of their sofa and throws it towards the Raptors hoop in the corner of the room. “Kobe!”“God, you’re so lame,” Morgan mutters, pushing at Jake’s back with one foot as he collapses onto the sofa.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay i really was going to finish this fic before posting it but i got in my jake feels and then i felt like i had to post the first chapter. originally, this was prompted by an anon on tumblr. i'll include the prompt in the end notes because, like, sorta spoilery? idk. 
> 
> does anyone else really REALLY miss jake gardiner?
> 
> disclaimer: i was definitely not a leafs fan in the early to mid 2010s, so i am BOUND to get some stuff wrong

The moment Morgan gets to sit down in his assigned seat, he knows the evening will be stressful and earth-shattering. After this night, his life will be different. He will be drafted by a team that, hopefully, wants him. A team that may become his home, connected to a city that will be  _ his, _ just like how Vancouver and Moose Jaw are  _ his. _

The suit he wears chokes him, the first tailored suit he’s ever bought, with the top button done up like a vice around his throat. The tie around his neck feels too tight. He reaches up with a finger and messes around with the collar, trying to loosen it. It’s all in his mind, but his tie resembles the feel of a noose. He looks up at the ceiling, eyes roaming over the banners hanging from the metal supports, unable to concentrate on the opening remarks of Bettman. To be perfectly honest, he couldn't care less about what Bettman has to say, like the rest of the world.

Morgan’s dad reaches over with a hand and gently holds Morgan’s arm still for a second, disallowing Morgan from destroying his appearance.  _ Because first impressions mean more than anything else. _

“Calm down, you’re going to mess up your tie,” his dad admonishes lightly with a smile. 

“Sorry,” he says, dropping his arm and nudging his dad’s hand away gently.

“Come on, Mo, it’ll turn out alright. Okay?” 

Morgan nods and bites his lip. His dad sighs amusedly and lets him be. His ends up bouncing his leg up and down, keeping time to the rhythm of his heartbeat pumping adrenaline around in his blood. 

“You’re making me nervous,” his dad quips. 

“Can’t help it. I just want them to start already.” 

A wry smile quirks his dad’s lips up. “That makes both of us.” 

It’s at that moment that Gary Bettman shuts up, allowing Morgan to breathe a sigh of relief. There’s a bunch of stuff that occurs on stage, most of it he cannot remember. It feels like he blacked out for a good ten minutes. 

And then the murmur picks up around the venue, introducing a subtle sense of chaos that has Morgan’s heart beating faster. His leg stops, because he cannot keep up the movement without feeling tired. 

Oh, there goes Tambellini, up onto the stage. He walks, and walks, and walks, until he reaches the black podium, lined with strips of metal-grey material. He stands there, facing the audience and he starts to talk. 

Morgan is pleading, he is pleading not to get picked. He does not want to play for the Oilers. It seems a bit cocky to even be thinking about the possibility of being first-overall. He doesn’t care; he doesn’t want to be first-overall anyways. 

“The Edmonton Oilers,” he begins, with a smile as a few boo’s ring out, “are so proud to select from the Sarnia Sting…”

Cheers ring out for Yakupov and Morgan breathes a sigh of relief. Thank god. Columbus picks, and it isn’t him. The Habs are up, and Morgan also really doesn’t want to be picked by them either, and they don’t choose him. He lives to see another day. 

But as the draft drones on, the time between the picks seeming to drag on, Morgan begins to worry. He knows he isn’t placed top five on many of the projected draft selection lineups, but he doesn’t want to go to a team that he can’t do anything for. He wants to go to the Leafs. It sounds kind of stupid, but he does. He grew up cheering for them, dressed in blue and white, despite hailing from the West coast. He doesn’t care that they suck. It feels like they’re his team. 

Morgan shakes his head, sharpening his focus as the Ducks leave the stage for the Leafs to begin selecting their pick.

His leg starts bouncing again. He tries not to jostle around too much. He looks down at the ground, unable to take the suspense, and doesn’t say anything. He’s mic’d up; no point in giving anyone material. His dad starts chewing his gum vigorously. 

Morgan leans back. Brian Burke walks up to the stage, slow as a parade procession. He stands behind the podium, stern and stoic. He opens his mouth and Morgan’s heart skips a beat. He begins thanking everyone, and Morgan just wants him to get on with it.

“And with our first selection in the 2012 entry draft, the Toronto Maple Leafs are pleased to select,” Burke says, “from the Western Hockey League,” Morgan whips his head to his parents, his family, and tries not to full on beam, “of the Canadian Hockey League,” he knows it’s him, but he doesn’t know if he should get up because Burke is still not done talking, “Morgan Rielly.” 

And finally. His name is called. Morgan starts to stand up tentatively, lips pressed together so he doesn’t smile like a lunatic. He looks to his dad. He’s also smiling like crazy. 

His dad turns towards him, and Morgan can’t hold his smile in anymore. He’s pulled into a hug, his dad whispering in his ear, “I’m proud of you, Mo.” He laughs and doesn’t say anything, because he can’t seem to form words. Then, his mom is there, embracing him and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re amazing, Morgan,” she says, “this is a new beginning for you.” 

Morgan nods and smiles down at her face. He might tear up if this continues. He rushes through the rest of the emotional hugs, eager to make it onto the stage and into a Leafs jersey. He pats his brother on the back and squeezes both his grandparents gently. 

He heaves a big breath and shuffles back to the stairs. His dad takes his blazer from him, and pushes him jokingly. It’s time. 

As Morgan stalks to the stage, he can feel his body trembling. He’s giddy with excitement and nervousness, all his emotions rattling around in him like popcorn being heated. The mic pack at his thigh digs into his leg as he walks. He uses it to ground him, as a reminder to not look an idiot who’s won the lottery. He bites his lips. He wonders why he shouldn’t be beaming, because it really  _ is _ like he’s won the lottery. Why can’t he show his true emotions? That’s right, because he’ll be viewed as sentimental. And no one wants a sentimental hockey player. Because then he’ll be  _ soft.  _

Sometimes he wonders why he can’t be soft. Some of his favourite things are soft—like Maggie’s fur and the comfort of his mom’s embrace. 

Morgan pushes on. He walks up the stairs to the stage, finally letting a polite smile free as he shakes hands with the members of the Leafs organization. 

“Congratulations,” he hears, multiple times. He thanks them without much thought. 

He ends up facing Brian Burke who wears a countenance of rigid, wrinkled strictness. The smile slowly leaves Morgan’s lips until they’re nothing but a thin line on his face. He shakes his hand. 

Burke leans in. “Congratulations,” he says. “Welcome to Leafs.”

“Thank you, si—”

“Yes, of course. We’re hoping you can contribute greatly to the organization and find a home in Toronto as well.”

Morgan nods, tightly. 

Burke’s face softens minutely. “Take a deep breath, Morgan. Lookin’ a little nervous there.” Morgan chuckles nervously. “Anyways, we don’t let our picks wear caps—it obscures their faces too much.”

“Yeah, definitely, makes sense,” Morgan replies. 

“That’s it,” Burke laughs lowly and steps away from him. 

Someone hands him the Leafs jersey with twelve on the back, but he doesn’t remember who it was. He puts it on as slow as he thinks he can get away with. He doesn’t want to make a fool of himself trying to put it on too quick. 

He doesn’t embarrass himself. 

The smile on his face is pure, unbridled joy when he poses for the photo. He can’t stop himself. 

As they lead Morgan offstage, Burke manages to walk beside him. He doesn’t mind, they have to be interviewed by TSN later anyways. 

“Morgan,” Burke says. “I can’t tell you how glad I am we were able to draft you. Toronto’s going to love you. You’ll do great things there. We have big plans for you, and hopefully you’ll prove us right.”

Morgan looks at Burke, stares him in the eye on a whim, sincere and heartfelt. He nods steadfastly, “for sure. I know I’ll love the city like it’s my own.”

“To Toronto, eh?” Burke laughs heavily. 

Morgan smiles. “To Toronto.” 

As soon as Morgan is able to step down the stage, away from the eyes of hundreds of people scrutinizing him under the bright and heavy lights. A bunch of people usher him, along with Burke, to the interview table with James Duthie. 

The interview goes fine. The fact that he’s being broadcasted to thousands, maybe even millions, of people throws him off. It tightens his muscles, drives up his anxiousness. He’s unable to look up much, a bit nervous of staring into the camera. 

The first question that Duthie asks him brings up his ACL injury. He’d been hoping to escape discussing the whole thing altogether, but he guesses that was too much to hope for. It’s pretty unimaginable that he’d be able to be drafted fifth overall, and to the  _ Leafs _ as well, after the injury he suffered the season prior. 

Morgan remembers the pain of surgery, the pain of rehabilitation. He remembers the mental blows he’d taken, and smiles.

He’s worked hard. He’s made it.

***

After the draft, Morgan goes back to Vancouver and has a great summer. He gets drunk with his Vancouver friends, glad to welcome a summer void of worry about the future.

“Can’t believe you got drafted by the Leafs,” his friends joke. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

Morgan only laughs, head spinning from the alcohol. He lets them poke fun at the Leafs, they’ve been terrible for quite a while and the cup drought is a valid criticism. He doesn’t care that much; he’s just happy that he can play for the team he grew up loving. 

They spend so much time out in the sun that Morgan begins to burn pink. His skin hurts and itches, but he doesn’t notice it when he’s out fishing with his friends. He doesn’t notice it when they splash around on the beaches, making excessive noise that’s got to be bothering the families drinking in the sunshine and nice weather. 

He wants to care, but it gets lost in the crashing waves and ringing laughter. 

When Morgan goes home and his mom sees the flaky skin peel off from his shoulders and nose, she tears him a new one and slathers body lotion onto him that reminds him of childhood nights spent asleep on the bedroom floor of his parents’ room.

By the time summer ends and the new season starts, Morgan is back with the Moose Jaw Warriors, armed with renewed pride and motivation. He plays sixty games there, putting up fifty-four points. It’s the best he’s done so far in that many games. It’s a better recovery than he ever could’ve hoped for, especially after his injury. 

There are days when he feels off. Those days start with a sharp stabbing pain in his knee, repetitively throbbing as he tries to trudge through the rest of his day. On those days, Morgan begins to think. He thinks about the prospect of playing in the NHL and the looming nature of the Leafs organization; almost as if the Leafs were a multi-million corporation searching for the most cost-efficient players that would result in a revival of the franchise. 

Oh yeah. They were. 

Those days end with Morgan laying in bed, thinking about Maggie and his family. He ponders calling his mom, and he usually does. 

And when he does call his mom, she comforts him and reminds him he’s not alone. He realises that everything stems from home-sickness. 

But those days don’t come often. And if they do, Morgan knows he’s always got someone on his side. He doesn’t want to lose this side of him; the one where he can show emotion and express himself the way he wants to. 

***

When Morgan breaks onto the Leafs roster after the start of training camp, he feels good. Well, he feels elated. 

When Morgan goes back to his lonely hotel room situated in the heart of downtown Toronto, the elatedness fades away into anxiousness. He looks out the window, watching pedestrians and cars alike march on in the crispness of the autumn air. 

It’s great that he’s  _ finally _ playing for an NHL team, and  _ Toronto _ too, but he misses the intimacy of Moose Jaw. It’s been a while since he played a game there due to his stint on the Marlies, but the sentiment is branded in his heart. He knew that there was going to be a day where he played for the last time in Moose Jaw, set his foot down in Moose Jaw for the last time. He just didn’t know that reality would hurt so much. 

Morgan guesses it, the sentimental and emotional side of his mind, shows in his game, because the next thing he knows, he’s getting pulled aside by the new GM, Nonis. 

“How are you fitting into the NHL, Morgan?” Nonis smiles at him in his office. 

“It’s been good, great,” he responds, eager. The only places he frequents are his hotel, the rink, and the ACC. 

Nonis nods along, barely paying attention, “that’s good. We’re glad you’re finding the transition into the NHL to be pleasant. But, there’s just a little worry on our end. Especially concerning your… development.”

Morgan furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head in confusion. 

Nonis laughs. “I may have worded that wrong. We’re worried about you off the ice, since you seem a little lost here.”

“Definitely not, sir, I think I’m doing fine. Great, really.”

Nonis looks at him with a knowing smile. “Is that really the case, though? Just to err on the side of caution, we’d like to have you interact with your teammates a little more. We want someone wearing the Leafs jersey to be strong and courageous, leadership material. And, obviously, you’re quite young. But it’s always good to have rookies carry out the Maple Leaf honour and pride.”

“For sure,” Morgan nods, “I understand. I’ll try my best to, uh, be with the team more.”

“Great,” Nonis smiles again. “As long as we’re clear that emotional gameplay is detrimental compared to power and leadership.” 

“Yeah, definitely,” Morgan lies. He smiles a tiny bit. 

“Thanks for the talk, Morgan, get back to your teammates.” The statement is meant to be taken as a joke, but it makes Morgan shiver instead. 

He follows Nonis’s order and trudges back to the dressing room, hands in his hoodie pocket and shoulders hunched in on himself. He ignores the staff walking around him, only focused on Nonis’s words and what he needs to do for the next game. 

Interact with his teammates?

Being strong?

Morgan has more questions than he has answers. 

“Hey, Morgan,” a voice greets. It’s deep and laid-back, sending another shiver through Morgan. But this time, it isn’t from fear or nervousness. 

He turns, and sees Jake Gardiner smiling at him. His eyes are kind and genuine, and his smile is inviting. Something sparks in Morgan’s chest. It makes him want to reach for more than just NHL hockey. 

“Call me Mo,” Morgan says back with a smile of his own. 

“Mo, then,” Jake smiles lopsidedly. “I, uh, I’ve heard from the grapevine that you were having a little trouble adjusting to the big league.” 

Morgan’s smile dims. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Jake winces. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just wondering if you, you know, wanted some help. It’s hard sometimes when you don’t really know anyone.”

Morgan hesitates. “Uh…”

“Man, I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?” Jake laughs nervously. “Honestly, I just wanted to ask if you wanted to be my roommate. I’m not sure if you have a place yet, but it’s not like I won’t want the company.”

“Oh, that’s what you meant,” Morgan says, nodding along to Jake. 

“Yeah.” The relief is heavy in Jake’s tone, and fairly visible on his face too. His face goes from looking like he got sacked to his smile again. 

“I mean, you’re right. I don’t have a place yet, and I’m still in the hotel they put me in.”

“So, how ‘bout it?” 

Morgan takes a look at Jake, fully this time. It’s the first time he’s really scrutinized him. He takes in the unconscious hand scratching at Jake’s nape. The gesture drives home the genuine and sincere nature of Jake’s personality. Morgan thinks about agreeing and the fact that it would probably bring a lopsided smile to Jake’s face. 

Jake is four years older than Morgan and he’d be willing to room with Morgan. It speaks millions of words about his generosity and kindness. 

“Okay, roomie,” Morgan replies and waits for the smile to reappear on Jake’s face.

It does. 

Maybe this is what management meant when they asked him to be stronger. 

  
.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stop sitting like that. It’s bad for your back.”
> 
> Jake shifts up and raises both his eyebrows at Morgan. “Yeah, okay, Mo. Anything you say.” 
> 
> The statement makes Morgan flush, an urge to hit Jake properly rising within him. “Shut up, Jake.” Jake laughs in that deep timbre of his, and Morgan feels like he’s flushing more.

“You’re driving next time,” Morgan complains as he follows behind Jake into their condo. 

“I drove in the morning,” Jake reminds him, slipping out of his shoes and kicking them off randomly. They roll away in different directions. 

Morgan scowls at the mess, “that doesn’t mean you’re gonna drive tomorrow morning. And how many times have we gone over this? Don’t kick your shoes off like that, it’s dirty.” 

Jake pads into the living room and waves Morgan’s statement off with a lazy hand. “We’ve been roommates for, like, two years now and you’ve never driven in the mornings.”

“That’s not true.” 

Jake snorts. “Sure.” 

Morgan takes his own shoes off, neatly, and goes to kick Jake’s shoes back onto the mat they have beside the front door. Jake should be glad that Morgan isn’t going to beat him into the ground this time; it isn’t winter yet and Jake’s shoes aren’t tracking slush and mud into their place. 

“You also need to pick up the dry cleaning,” Morgan says, trailing Jake. 

Jake picks up the cheap basketball lying at the foot of their sofa and throws it towards the Raptors hoop in the corner of the room. “Kobe!”

“God, you’re so lame,” Morgan mutters, pushing at Jake’s back with one foot as he collapses onto the sofa. 

“Just trying to be like the cool kids,” Jake smiles back with a kick at Morgan. “I picked up the dry cleaning last time, it’s your turn.”

Morgan stares at Jake. “That is a complete lie.” He turns on the TV. 

“Says who?”

“Says me! An emergency came up and you made me go instead, remember?” Morgan’s tone is incredulous, eyes wide with disbelief. 

Jake takes a moment, squinting at nothing in particular before he relaxes with a small smile of recall. “Oh yeah.”

“Oh yeah,” Morgan mimics, shaking his head. 

“Look, that time was justified. There was an emergency.” 

Morgan snorts. “Right. And I don’t buy ice cream every time we go grocery shopping.” 

“I swear to god there was. Naz made me go over and look after Jazzy.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, uh huh. I totally believe you.”

“You’re an actual  _ child, _ Mo,” Jake says, laughing. Morgan starts to protest before Jake cuts him off. “But it’s okay, because kids are hilarious. I’ll pick up the dry cleaning… soon.”

Morgan pauses and looks at Jake. He’s smiling and lounging on the sofa in a way that must be terrible for his back. 

“Soon,” Morgan repeats slowly. He nudges Jake with his foot. “Stop sitting like that. It’s bad for your back.”

Jake shifts up and raises both his eyebrows at Morgan. “Yeah, okay, Mo. Anything you say.” 

The statement makes Morgan flush, an urge to hit Jake properly rising within him. “Shut up, Jake.” Jake laughs in that deep timbre of his, and Morgan feels like he’s flushing more.

They end up switching on some TLC show that Jake is obsessed with. The show makes Morgan want to tear his hair out with the sheer stupidity of its excessive drama, but Morgan’s too lazy to actually argue with Jake. He knows he’d win, he just really doesn’t want to. It’s also nice, he guesses, because Jake smiles like an idiot when he gets into it and that of its own is enough to make Morgan happy. 

Before Morgan  _ really _ wants to punch something, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out. 

“Oh hey,” he says, staring at his phone, “my mom sent me a picture of Maggie.”

Jake turns to look at him, something unrecognizable in his expression. “Show me.” 

Morgan does, shifting over until they’re shoulder to shoulder. He’s up in Jake’s space, and he hopes Jake doesn’t mind it. He shoves his phone in front of Jake’s face, a bright picture of Maggie sitting on her hind legs with her tongue lolling out of her mouth in a happy smile maximized on the screen of his phone. 

Jake pushes Morgan’s hand away from his face, trying to see the photo better. “You’ve got a cute dog, Mo. Why don’t you just bring her over to Toronto? You know I wouldn’t mind if Maggie lived with us.” 

Morgan freezes. Jake’s mentioned Maggie so many times, and each time Morgan shoots his down offer of bringing Maggie into their home. Morgan’s too selfish and scared of having Maggie living with them. Because then, it would seem like they were  _ together, _ taking care of a dog as if it was the next, coherent step they needed to take in their evolving relationship. 

But it isn’t. And they will never be together. Morgan has to save himself the heartache even if he has to see Jake’s sad puppy eyes and withhold Maggie from more love that she deserves.

“I don’t know, Jake,” Morgan hesitates, pulling away from Jake. “I think my parents would miss her too much.”

“Don’t you miss her more?” Jake frowns. 

Jake’s right. Morgan hates that he knows him so well. “Yeah, but… I don’t know. It’s too complicated. Maybe in a few years.”

Jake’s lips thin. Morgan knows it’s a sign of him holding back on arguing. He’s thankful for Jake. He really is. Everything about him makes Morgan like him  _ more. _

“Okay.” Jake’s voice is small and sullen. “But you’re bringing her someday so I can meet her.”

Morgan smiles softly, relieved that Jake’s giving him a way out. “Yeah, I will.” He pauses for a second before continuing. “Plus, it’s not like we’re without a companion. We have Uma.”

Jake snorts and Morgan smiles wider. “Okay, Mo, ‘cuz having Uma is exactly like taking care of a dog.”

“Exactly! Except Uma is much more well-behaved than Maggie.”

“Of course.” Jake gives him a fond smile, eyes hooded with emotion. Morgan’s heart jolts and he ducks his head.

***

_ It doesn’t take long for Morgan to move into Jake’s pre-existing condo, taking less than a week to transfer all of his meager belongings into the esteemed Gardiner Estate. Even with the short amount of time he’s lived with Jake, he’s realised that there was a divide between the age difference between them and their actions. He finds it funny that Jake, despite being four years older, is unable to look after himself. Although, usually, this leads to Morgan slaving over the housework on most days. _

_ But the one thing Morgan is grateful for, is Jake’s laid-back personality. Morgan can be a bit high-strung at times, a bit too pushy. Jake doesn’t care at all. _

_ They’re getting along pretty well too, since Jake has started to realise that no matter how mad Morgan gets, he’s most likely not mad at all. It facilitates their bonding, diminishing Jake's awkwardness around Morgan. It makes Morgan happy, because he hates it when someone puts on a front and hides away their personality. He likes how natural and open Jake is. The only bad thing about Jake’s openness is the way he starts to rile Morgan up for entertainment.  _

_ Morgan guesses it’s okay; Jake took  _ him _ in after all. _

_ Even though Morgan has stayed with Jake for a while now, it’s still early in the pre-season. _

_ Toronto is still warm, similar to what the weather would be like in Moose Jaw. It’s quite nice outside. The sun shines bright through the wispy thin clouds dotting the rich blue sky.  _

_ It’s a really nice day. Morgan would rather spend it outside doing something than staying inside and moping like a loner.  _

_ “So, uh, got any plans today?” Jake’s voice echoes from behind him.  _

_ Morgan turns around for a brief second and returns to his action of staring out the balcony window. “Not really. Do you?” _

_ “Well, I was thinking about going to the CNE. Wanna come?” _

_ Morgan startles. “Oh, uh, who else is going?”  _

_ “No one,” Jake smiles. Morgan’s heart thumps.  _

_ “Oh. So, just us two?” _

_ “Just us two,” Jake nods.  _

Interact with your teammates a little more. Be strong, courageous, a leader. 

_ Okay then. “Why not?” _

  
  
  


_ They take the TTC down to Exhibition Place, walking past Ricoh Coliseum.  _

_ “Marlies days, eh?” Morgan says with a smile.  _

_ “Marlies days,” Jake replies, shaking his head wistfully.  _

_ The air outside is sticky and humid, clinging to Morgan like a second skin. He wipes a hand across his forehead and stares, entranced, at the bustling fairgrounds. There’s probably not as many people as there would be during the weekend, but Morgan still feels overwhelmed by the crowds that the Exhibition attracts. Thousands of voices ring out and merge into loud ambiance, interspersed with shrieking laughter and crying from small children.  _

_ It really is overwhelming. It’s overwhelming because this is Toronto, and not Moose Jaw or Vancouver.  _

_ “Hey, you okay?” Jake nudges him, eyeing him. _

_ “Oh yeah, I’m great,” Morgan replies with a deep inhale, “just homesick.”  _

_ Jake’s eyes soften just a little around the edges. He nudges Morgan again, this time to the buildings. “Come on, I’ll distract you. Let’s go look at the random stuff they’re displaying. You like animals, right?” _

_ “Yeah,” Morgan mumbles, “I like animals.” _

_ The two of them wander through the buildings, with Jake leading him to the one with the agricultural and animal exhibition first. Morgan doesn’t know the significance behind how any of the animals or crops are rated, and he tells Jake as such. _

_ “Me neither,” Jake shrugs, “but I like the animals. They’re cute.” _

_ Morgan snorts, unable to hold it in, “of course the animals are cute. All animals are cute.” _

_ Jake throws him a lazy look. “What, even snakes?” _

_ “Yeah,” Morgan says, acting as if Jake is dumb. “Every animal is cute.” _

_ Jake shakes his head. “I draw the line at deadly animals.” _

_ “Not all snakes are deadly,” Morgan scoffs, leaning against the pen of a few pigs dozing. One of the pigs huffs out, its little feet twitching.  _

_ “But they can be,” Jake counters. “Which means you have to be careful.”  _

_ Morgan laughs, accidentally bumping into Jake. “Sorry, but are you telling me to be careful of snakes?” _

_ “Well yeah, you never know when you could get bitten,” Jake huffs.  _

_ “Yeah, okay,” Morgan says. _

_ They move on to the horses. Morgan almost trips over himself when a horse neighs at him unexpectedly. Jake laughs.  _

_ After a few hours, they’ve finished touring most of the buildings at the CNE and gone on some of the outside rides. Jake buys a mandoline at the miscellaneous booths selling household appliances and clothing.  _

_ “It’ll be useful,” Jake explains as the store owner nods appreciatively. _

_ “Of course,” the store owner says, “you won’t be disappointed.” _

_ Morgan decides not to say anything, even though he knows neither of them will be using the product. He thinks Jake bought it because it looked cool.  _

_ “Do you even know what this does?” Morgan asks.  _

_ “Sure.” _

_ “You don’t have a clue, do you?” _

_ “Nope.” And then Jake beams.  _

_ After Jake’s disastrous introduction to poutine and a dangerous ferris wheel ride, Morgan feels miles better about agreeing to be Jake’s roommate. There’s more than just friendliness between them that’s intertwining and entangling their strings together. He doesn’t think he’s ever been able to form such a close connection in such a short amount of time with anyone before.  _

_ Morgan thinks he understands what the hype is about now.  _

_ “I bet you can’t win that ring toss,” Jake pipes up. He’s pointing to a small game stand laden with giant stuffed animals that seem to overcrowd the entire stand. There aren’t many people clustered around the area, and the shade provided by the red and white striped overhang is inviting to Morgan under the sweltering sun.  _

_ “What are you, five?” _

_ “Only if I lose,” Jake counters. His smile is easy. Easily making Morgan smile back. _

_ “Oh, you’re on, anything to prove that you’re actually five.” _

_ Jake’s laugh slips out, low and charming. Morgan feels like he’s floating.  _

_ The summer air is sticky and humid, sticking to Morgan like a second skin. His shirt clings to his back with Morgan’s every move, adhered by sweat. The air smells sweet, like cotton candy and exhilaration.  _

_ “Oh yeah,” Jake exclaims, pumping an arm as the final ring swirls down onto the bottle. Morgan looks over, already beaming.  _

_ “Aw goddammit,” he says, feigning disappointment. “I guess you’re not five, then.” _

_ “You know it.” Jake puffs his chest out, accepting the stuffed animal from the vendor with pride.  _

_ Morgan laughs as Jake shoves the animal into his arms, hugging the toy tight. “How much did we spend trying to win this thing?” He heaves the toy up and down, gauging its weight.  _

_ “Upwards of a hundred dollars, maybe. And don’t call him an ‘it’, he’s part of this family.” _

_ “What family?” Morgan laughs, almost dropping the stuffed animal. _

_ “Uh, ours?” _

_ Morgan snorts and pretends like nothing is wrong. Like he doesn’t feel uncomfortable with how intimate this feels. “If you say so. What animal is he anyways?” _

_ “A puma,” Jake huffs, almost as if he couldn’t believe that Morgan wouldn’t be able to figure out the species of their stuffed animal companion. _

_ “Easy, we’ll name his Uma the Puma.” _

_ “Uma the Puma,” Jake stares. _

_ “Uma the Puma,” Morgan beams.  _

***

Jake ditches Morgan for his own room after he brings up Maggie. Morgan doesn’t know how to discourage Jake from interacting with the other part of his life without hurting him.

There are days when Morgan wakes up to pounding on his door, disoriented and angry, courtesy of Jake. Then there are days when he wakes up by himself, silent and sullen. Those days are worse. And, lately, he wakes up searching for a body beside him. He’s disappointed when the person he imagines isn’t there. It’s stupid. It really is. 

“What’re you doing, Jake?” Morgan hollers. He doesn’t want Jake to feel sad.

“Changing!” Jake yells back, muffled by the closed door of his room. 

“Oh,” Morgan says to himself. 

Changing sounds like a good idea. Morgan stands up from the couch, ready to slip into some sweats, when his phone starts buzzing constantly in his pocket. He fishes it out of his pocket, wincing as he sees Management flash across the screen. 

“Hey, Lou,” Morgan answers as cheerfully as he can. 

_ “Morgan, glad to catch you,” _ Lamoriello replies. It sounds like he might be smiling.

“What’s up?” 

_ “Don’t worry, it’s nothing major.” _ Lamoriello’s voice is meant to be reassuring, meant to calm Morgan down. It only unsettles him.

“Yeah, of course.”

Jake steps out, quiet and cautious. He looks at Morgan with a confused look, opening his mouth. Morgan shushes him with a finger to his lips and puts Nonis on speaker. He places his phone on the coffee table. He’s always been transparent about his interactions with the Leafs Org with Jake. 

_ “We just wanted to have you come early before next game, just so we could have a little conversation.” _

Morgan furrows his eyebrows and looks to Jake. Jake shrugs.

“Uh, what for?” Morgan says dumbly. 

Lamoriello laughs.  _ “You don’t have to worry about it. We’ll just be going over some media training and the like.” _

“Okay,” Morgan says slowly. “I carpool with Jake though, so is it okay if we come together?”

There’s silence across the line. Morgan shivers and Jake pats him reassuringly. 

_ “Sure!” _ Lamoriello’s tone sounds fake.  _ “As long as Jake doesn’t join you when we’re speaking.” _

Morgan frowns. He looks to Jake again, who encourages him wordlessly to placate Lamoriello.

“Of course. I’ll be there, like, thirty minutes earlier then?”

_ “That’d be perfect. Thanks for understanding, Morgan, and cooperating. See you then.” _

“Yeah, for sure. Have a good day.”

Morgan pushes down on the red button angrily. 

“What the actual fuck?” Morgan states, throwing a skeptical look in Jake’s direction. 

“Don’t ask me,” Jake replies, easy-going like he always is. 

“Man, come on. You heard him. What’s so top-secret that you can’t come? If it’s just media training, why can’t you be there too?”

Jake snorts, shaking his head. “Sometimes it’s just easier to do as the boss-man says. It’s your job on the line.”

Morgan scoffs and punches Jake in the arm. He thinks about tripping him. “Yeah, right.”

Jake ponders a little. “Or, they’re out to get me.” 

That statement hits Morgan harder than any insinuation of his own lost Leafs career. It hurts more when he thinks about Jake being kicked off the Leafs. It would mean that they wouldn’t have  _ this _ anymore. But maybe it’d be better if it didn’t cause him the bittersweet pain of being close but not intimate. 

“Don’t joke about that,” Morgan frowns. He’s serious. 

Jake senses the shift in Morgan’s mood. “Hey, hey. You aren’t getting rid of me that easy, okay?” 

Morgan raises an eyebrow. Jake smiles back.

***

_ When summer rolls by in 2014, Morgan’s made himself a close friend, if not the closest friend he’s had in, well, forever. The whole situation makes Morgan cringe a little, because of course he had to ruin it with his feelings.  _

_ His goddamned, idotic feelings. Feelings that compel him to plead at Jake’s feet, literally and figuratively, imploring him to stay just a little longer in Toronto so they can have more time together before they have to diverge paths.  _

_ And, like, he manages to stomp the urge to beg completely. Which is awesome. But now he’s back home in Vancouver, moping around like he’s lost a limb or was denied ice cream when it was right in front of him. His mom yells at him a lot, especially when he lies on his bed in his childhood room doing nothing while reminiscing about nothing in particular. (He’s lying to himself because Jake could  _ never _ be nothing.) She tells him to go out more and see his friends before he really has to start training. He’s wasted a good chunk of the summer already.  _

_ Even with his mom’s words, which make a lot of sense, he doesn’t get up. He lies there and strokes Maggie’s fur occasionally, staring up at the ceiling. There aren’t a lot of concrete thoughts in his mind, but there is one that stands out. He wants his own house in Vancouver, a place where he can build a home that diverts away from his family. He loves his mom and dad and brother, but there’s something missing from truly calling Vancouver home.  _

_ A few days of despondency goes by, earning him various fleeting, worried glances from both his parents and occasionally a punch from his brother whenever he visits. Morgan recovers quickly, uncloaking the heavy weight of gloom and donning a new visage of cheer. He responds to a bunch of friends from elementary school, apologizing for his absence with an excuse of being with family. He RSVPs to a dinner invitation for NHL players from the Vancouver area hosted by the Benns. He makes Jake download Snapchat.  _

_ The months fly by like this: Morgan goes to the weight room in Burnaby most days, catching up with his trainer as she spurs him on with words of encouragement and joking taunts. He goes out fishing with a bunch of Vancouver friends, throwing the fish back into the water when they take his bait. He has dinner with his family, sometimes extended family, and laughs along loudly to the amusing anecdotes thrown across the tablecloth. He facetimes with Jake, almost daily, bitching about the terrible quality of Jake’s snapchats while showing Maggie off.  _

_ One time, Morgan takes a snapchat of him and Maggie lying down together on the couch with both of them half-asleep. Jake screenshots the photo and Morgan yells at him. Jake shrugs and that’s that.  _

_ At the end of August, Morgan takes a day trip by himself. He skips out on his training and takes the car, bringing Maggie along the ride. He takes a ferry to Vancouver Island, arriving in Nanaimo during lunchtime. He grabs a nanaimo bar and some sushi, sending a snap to Jake. He takes in the bright blue skies and the happy feeling of being anonymous in a foreign-ish place. He smiles down at Maggie as she pants, tongue lolling out in a smile.  _

_ After lunch, he drives out to a nature sanctuary, changing into active wear. He takes a trail that follows the water, setting a brisk pace fast enough for him to sweat but slow enough for Maggie to follow. The air smells fresh, like nature and green. Occasionally, he manages to come across small waterfalls. The water that splashes onto his face is refreshing and cooling. He stops there for a while and gives Maggie a god head rub, pouring out some water in his hand for her to drink. She laps at it vigorously and headbutts him when she’s had enough, making Morgan beam.  _

_ “Let’s go girl,” Morgan says. And they’re off again.  _

_ In the evening, after dinner, Morgan drives to Sandcut Beach bordering the Salish sea. He’s there just in time for the sunset, as he intended. He sits down a large log of driftwood or perhaps even a fallen tree, and urges Maggie to settle as well.  _

_ The waterfalls in the background whisper insistently. The sun falls, dipping below the horizon, its brilliant golden rays haloing into red, orange, pink, purple, and eventually dark blue-black. The waves crash against the pebbled beach, washing over the stones reverently. The sun paints the water such that it’s blinding. Morgan looks at Maggie, hunched over and chest expanding calmly. The calm before the storm.  _

_ He takes out his phone and stares. He calls Jake.  _

“Mo?” _ Jake picks up. His voice is a comforting blanket that enfolds Morgan. _

_ “Hey Gards,” he replies, smiling. Maggie perks up at the sound of his voice. Morgan snorts and pets her. _

“Went to Vancouver Island with Maggie and didn’t even bring me, huh?”

_ “It’s not my fault you weren’t in Vancouver when I decided to go,” Morgan throws back. _

“You didn’t invite me!”

_ “Since when did you need invitations?” _

“Hey, I’m not one to overstep,” Jake says haughtily. 

_ Morgan laughs, “okay, Gards.” He pauses. “What are you doing?” _

“Watching Whiplash.”

_ “That’s a terrible movie.” _

“People can have their own opinions,” Jake drawls. 

_ “But it’s objectively a shitty movie.” _

“Just like Inception?”

_ “Inception isn’t a shitty movie. You have shitty opinions. Like not liking poutine.” _

“It’s the cheese curds, how many times have I told you that?”

_ “The cheese curds are the best part! Without cheese curds, you just have fries with gravy. And that’s not poutine.” _

“But I can ask for poutine without cheese.”

_ “That’s not poutine!” _

_ Jake laughs, content with riling Morgan up. Morgan sighs, knowing he fell into another one of Jake’s stupid traps. The thought makes him smile. For the first time in a while, he feels whole.  _

_ Jake makes him whole. _

***

The next game they play is against the Habs. Given how their season is going, they’re bound to lose. Morgan’s hopes are already down, nerves set on edge from the ominous meeting requested by Lamoriello. Jake makes Morgan drive as punishment, since he’s the one shifting both their schedules up by thirty minutes. 

It’s a bad decision, because Morgan manages to run into the curb outside their condo and veers into another lane a few times.

“Mo,” Jake laughs. 

“Don’t blame it on me, it’s this stupid meeting,” Morgan sighs. 

“Come on man, get it together, Rielly,” Jake jokes. “Time to man up and face your doom.”

“Shut up, Jake,” Morgan says and drives over a crack in the road. It jostles Jake in the passenger seat.

When they reach the SBA, Morgan is glad he’s managed to avoid a minor collision. They walk in through the back, both of them in crinkled suits. There’s a certain wariness to Morgan’s step as he follows behind Jake sullenly. 

They reach the entrance to the changing room. Morgan wants to follow Jake in there, too, but Jake just laughs and pushes him towards Lamoriello’s direction.

“Aw, are you scared to go alone?“ Jake ribs. He nudges Morgan slightly.

“I’m not,” Morgan snaps.

Jake’s face softens. “Mo, it’ll be fine. I’ll be here when you’re done anyways.”

Morgan huffs. “It’s not like I want to see your face all the time. I just don’t want to go.”

“Hey,” Jake says, “it might be a good thing, yeah?”

“I guess so,” Morgan sighs.

“Come on, stop stalling. Go see Lou,” Jake shakes his head, pushing Morgan out from the entrance of the changing room. 

Morgan manages to listen to him, walking down the carpeted hallways to the corridor where Lamoriello’s office lies. He feels like the lights are dimmer than the last time he was here. Each step he takes creates more dread in his stomach. Stones weighing him down. 

By the time he’s standing in front of the door, Morgan feels like he’s somehow made a bad decision, even though it was really an obligation that led him here. He takes a deep breath before knocking and opening the door. 

“Lou?” Morgan pops his head in. 

Lamoriello is staring at an iPad. He takes his eyes from the screen when he hears Morgan’s voice, turning his gaze towards Morgan’s direction. It takes a second before he smiles.

“Mo! Glad you’re here, sorry about the short notice,” he greets, standing up and opening the door fully. “Come in, come in. This won’t take long.”

Morgan nods, smiling back at Lamoriello. “So, uh, what’s the reason for this… meeting?”

“Jump the gun, why don’t you?” Lamoriello jokes, laughing. Morgan chuckles along, but he’s weirdly unsettled because of the joke. 

“Well, I’ll be blunt then.” Lamoriello’s face turns serious. It’s as if a mask has been removed, and the face underneath is hard and cold and calculating. “We, the Leafs Organization, have been amazed by your work ethic and contributions to the team since we signed you in the 2012 draft. And we’d really like to acknowledge that, because it’s really special what you have. It’s leadership material.”

Morgan straightens at that. His heart beats fast.

Lamoriello pauses. “Because you have such, such an affinity for leading, we feel like there’s definitely a few ways you can improve to adhere to our values. You get me?”

No, Morgan doesn’t get him. Just like he didn’t get Burke at the draft.

“Of course,” Morgan nods.

“Perfect,” Lamoriello smiles. “Then there’s a few things we’d like to outline. First, your relationship with Jake Gardiner.”

“Jake? What’s wrong with being friends with Jake?” Morgan says, astonished and unable to restrain his words. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being friends with him, but we feel like your relationship has become… out of control.”

“Out of control?”

Lamoriello blinks at Morgan. “Maybe the better word is intimate. We want both of you two to focus on hockey, on the bond between teammates, not something that will waste your time.” 

“Intimate?” Morgan backtracks. He wonders what his face looks like momentarily; he’s always been an open book. Then it hits him. “Oh, oh no. Me and Jake, we aren’t… we aren’t  _ together. _ We’re literally just friends.”

Lamoriello raises an eyebrow. “It’s unacceptable.”

Morgan is sweating. “Okay, but, but Jake’s a teammate. Wasn’t I supposed to get closer to my teammates? Bond with them?”

“Yes, that’s our point,” Lamoriello sighs. “We want you to be able to interact with your teammates in such a way that you’re able to show them an example of the values you reflect for the Leafs. We want you to be strong, courageous, paving the way for the rest of the team.”

“And that includes not talking to Jake?”

“Think about it, Morgan. How much has clinging onto Jake Gardiner hindered you when you’ve made decisions? Are you really putting all of your heart into playing hockey? Or are you becoming soft, the opposite of a good, strong player that we want.”

Lamoriello glances at him.  _ Soft. He doesn’t want to be soft. _

“Ever since you started forming a relationship with him, you’ve relied on him. You’re his roommate, have been for multiple years. How old are you now?”

Lamoriello stares at him expectantly. Morgan thought it was a rhetorical question. 

“Twenty,” he answers, “turning twenty-one in a few months.”

“Exactly! You’re almost twenty-one, an adult, yet you’re still living with Gardiner. As much as it’s nice to have a roommate, but don’t you think it’s time you experience what it’s like to be independent? To be able to fend for yourself and create a life where you’re thriving?”

“I…” Morgan says. “I guess so.”

“Take some time to think about it, Morgan. But I guarantee that you’ll find that we have your best interests in heart. We want you to be able to walk into that dressing room, and represent the Leafs and set an example for your teammates as someone who is strong, courageous, independent.”

“Yeah,” Morgan says. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all we ask for,” Lamoriello smiles, face wrinkling like a monster. 

“I’ll go back to the changing room then, don’t wanna miss the game,” Morgan jokes with an uncomfortable smile. 

“Of course, of course. Thank you for the insightful talk, Mo,” Lamoriello says. It feels more like a dismissal.

Morgan nods and exits the room. He doesn’t talk to Jake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kind of want to make the next chapter in jakes pov but i feel like that would be too abrupt/weird


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, it’ll be good to finally get you out of my hair,” Jake jokes, trying out a laugh in his throat.
> 
> Morgan looks relieved. 
> 
> “Yeah,” Morgan smiles slightly instead of arguing against Jake. 
> 
> Jake shatters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shhh this isnt edited yet im sorry (also its short cuz i decided to split the chapter up)

“Made me drive back, huh,” Jake snorts at Morgan as they trek through the parking garage. 

Morgan makes a noise in agreeance, shoving his face deeper into his collar as he burns holes into the ground with his eyes. Morgan’s hands are buried in his coat pockets. He looks like a slip of a creature, the opposite of his more animated self, with the way he burrows into his clothing like a turtle sinking back into its shell. 

Jake wants to push at Morgan, but it would only cause Morgan to withdraw even more, like poking at a turtle when it’s already encased in its shell.

Jake knows it would be a bad idea, but he can’t help doing it anyways. 

“You good, Mo?” Jake nudges Morgan slightly with his shoulder. Morgan flinches away, as if the brief contact burns him. Jake can’t lie and say that the action doesn’t hurt him.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Morgan says, raising his eyebrows in an exasperated and angry manner. It’s all he says. He still won’t look Jake in the eyes. 

And it’s not like Jake doesn’t try, because goddammit he  _ does _ try, but his mouth just won’t stay shut. 

“Are you sure you’re fine?” Jake asks, when the silence in the elevator becomes too loud for him to handle. 

Jake watches Morgan’s face flash through various emotions in the mirrors gilding the elevator before blank stoicism takes over and renders his face unreadable. 

“I’m. Fine.” 

The two words are said with so much finality that Jake truly doesn’t push anymore. He lets Morgan shove his way out of the elevator as soon as it arrives at their floor. Morgan almost gets caught between the doors because of his impatience, and Jake just manages to bite his lip. 

Morgan stalks through the hallway leading to their unit with an abnormally straight back. Morgan only excessively straightens his posture when he’s uncomfortable or irritated. It’s different from his normally relaxed shoulders that exude confidence—confidence that seems to be missing from the entirety of Morgan’s being. 

Jake lets Morgan walk away, following behind him with an uneasy heart. He wishes he’d know what was bothering Morgan so much. He knows the Leafs lost a game today—3-1 against the  _ Habs _ —, but it’s not like Morgan to dwell on a loss like  _ this. _ Morgan would try to compensate for his mistakes, walking around the dressing room with his heart on his sleeve and words of atonement on his tongue. And later, when they get back to the safety of their home away from the lashes of the media, Morgan would hold a mandatory heart-to-heart that was meant to “better” their chemistry. It was ridiculous, because they both knew that Babs would never put them on a line together. 

But Jake lets Morgan walk away, despite how unnatural the whole situation is. There’s no point. Jake can only hope that a terrible game was to blame, a game that was just as unnatural for Morgan, with the unnecessary physicality that Morgan had tried to play with. 

He tries one more time after they enter their unit. Jake even takes the extra effort to place his boots neat and tidy on the mat and hang his winter coat in their front-door closet as an attempt to please Morgan.

“Mo, what happened with management?” he hollers from the living room, grabbing Uma and hugging him tight. 

The sound of slamming drawers ceases. There’s a long pause that Jake doesn’t dare disrupt. It’s long enough that Jake is worried that Morgan didn’t hear him, or that he’s just going to continue to ignore Jake. 

“Nothing important. It doesn’t matter,” Morgan shouts back, an iron edge gripping on like a vice in his tone. 

The lack of transparency worries Jake, because there hasn’t been a day since they’ve truly become friends that Morgan has hid anything from Jake. 

And it’s not like Jake is entitled to know everything going on in Morgan’s life, especially nothing that involves management and Morgan’s career, but it’d be nice if he was. It would be nice if Morgan ran to him when a problem arose, or a new development occurred—because that’s what Jake does. 

***

The next morning, Jake wakes up after Morgan does. He has vague memories of an alarm going off, the same shitty one that Morgan set up for his phone because he insists that it was the only one that would wake him up. 

It doesn’t seem like Morgan is feeling down about himself, but rather that he’s developed some sort of hatred for Jake. 

The realisation hurts, but it doesn’t seem far-fetched. Jake can’t blame him anyways. He’s tried to bar his  _ inappropriate _ feelings from surfacing, but it never seemed like a plausible outcome for it to never come into light. Pandora’s box never stayed shut. 

When the clock strikes ten, Jake wonders if he should endure his hunger or keep waiting for Morgan to come back. He knows,  _ he knows, _ that Morgan is trying to avoid him, out of distaste, but he can’t help but hope that isn’t the case. It’s always been their tradition to grab brunch whenever they have a Saturday off at a little place in Scarborough. They grab a few of the guys when they’ve had a particularly empty week, but, usually, it’s just them. 

It might be the first time in years that the tradition is broken. How could Jake be that careless? How could he have been the one to throw their relationship in the trash?

Even now, Jake can’t help but be selfish. He can’t help but act on his worries and call Morgan, even though he knows Morgan is safe and that there’s nothing  _ wrong _ with him.

So, he calls him. It’s not much use, because it goes straight to voicemail. 

***

Morgan comes back home late in the afternoon. The sun will go down in an hour or so, but it hasn’t been visible with all of the clouds covering the sky.

“Oh, Mo, you’re back,” Jake perks up at the sound of the door opening. He smacks himself internally for sounding so desperate. 

Morgan throws him an awkward smile, one that’s obviously fake. Jake’s heart sinks. 

“Hey,” Morgan replies, toeing off his shoes and hanging his scarf. 

“Where’ve you been?” Jake asks. He knows, he knows, and he knows. 

Morgan purses his lips for a moment, and Jake knows that he was thinking about lying or flatout denying Jake of the answer. 

“I went to see Naz,” Morgan says, almost defiantly, and pads toward his room. 

Jake furrows his brows, quickly rising from the couch and following Morgan. “Oh yeah? I didn’t know you were gonna go see Naz.”

Morgan turns around, staring at Jake. There’s fire in his eyes that burns Jake to the ground. It’s angry and frustrated and… 

“I don’t have to fucking tell you everything I do, Gardiner, you’re not entitled to  _ anything.” _

The words punch Jake in the thorax and suddenly he can’t breathe. He thinks it shows in his eyes because Morgan’s face softens. 

“Look, Jake, it’s… hard to say this,” Morgan begins softly, “but I think. I think I need to move out.”

And then Jake’s heart is ripped out. 

“Oh.”

Morgan looks at him, briefly and with pity. “You’re one of the best guys on the team, and I really appreciate what you’ve done for me, but it’s time, you know? I think it’s time for me to be more… independent. Create something where I can thrive, yeah?” 

And Jake wants to shout. He wants to rip off all the pleasantries and tell Morgan to speak the truth. He wants to tell Morgan that he knows it’s his fault and that he doesn’t blame him for wanting to be rid of someone like him. He wants to stop Morgan from leaving, wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to thrive  _ alone. _

“Yeah, yeah. Independence is, uh, important. But, don’t you think… don’t you think this is so sudden?” 

Morgan looks away. “It really isn’t. It’s been coming for months.” 

Jake can’t really reply to that. He didn’t know Morgan had been feeling about him this way for  _ months. _

Jake smiles awkwardly. “Oh, I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Morgan makes a noise in agreement and clears his throat. 

“Well, it’ll be good to finally get you out of my hair,” Jake jokes, trying out a laugh in his throat.

Morgan looks relieved. 

“Yeah,” Morgan smiles slightly instead of arguing against Jake. 

Jake shatters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey like im so sorry if this is very angst I DIDNT PLAN THIS EITHER


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake exhales heavily and finally swipes the keycard to the door. There's a beep and a flash of green light. He pushes the door open with one hand, the other shouldering his bag. 
> 
> “Took you long enough,” Morgan scoffs as the TV plays in the background. It’s been a while since Mo spoke to him in a tone as mild as that. It causes Jake’s heart rate to spike a little more. 
> 
> Jake can’t see Morgan from the entrance, so he guesses the only reason Morgan is so calm is that he doesn’t know it’s Jake. He walks in hesitantly, closing the door behind him gently. He can see now that Morgan has already changed, wearing a soft pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Jake can’t help but smile to himself at the sight that had been so common in his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip to all my italics

Morgan moves out of their apartment after a month or so. Jake knows Morgan found another condo near the downtown core, in the peripheral of the ACC, but he doesn’t know which building Morgan lives in or what it looks like. A month isn’t a long time, he realizes, especially when it comes to finding a new place to live in.

Jake doesn’t really want to think about what it means for Morgan to move out in such a short period, but it comes down to two possibilities. First, Morgan really did think about it beforehand and had wanted to move out for a long time. The second possibility is that he wanted to get rid of Jake that badly. Maybe it would’ve taken him an even shorter amount of time if they hadn’t set off on a road trip after a few days after he’d broken the news to Jake.

Both possibilities make him uncomfortable, bringing a queasy sickness to his stomach. It really feels like Morgan is abandoning him, or ignoring him at the very least. Jake doesn’t really know which one is worse.

Even before Morgan had fully moved out, he had managed to avoid Jake most of the time. Morgan had spent all his time staying in his own room or hanging out with friends that Jake had never met. He managed to eat during the times Jake wasn’t. Even on game days at home, Morgan was able to stay completely frigid and silent, answering Jake’s nervous questions with one-worded answers only when he needed to. The road trip only helped Morgan with the whole Ignore Jake Gardiner Routine. 

But it’s fine, Jake can understand Morgan’s reasons; even he knew he was being obvious with his fervent crush. He knew he stared at Morgan just a bit too long for it to be natural, tapping Morgan’s ass one too many times. He’s not that worked up over Morgan disliking him, just worried about the team.

Ever since Morgan dropped the bomb that he was going to move out, he hasn’t been playing spectacularly. In fact, the Leafs have dropped most of their games, losing tremendously for most of them. Jake can point out the mistakes in his own plays, but the ones that Morgan makes are inexcusable and uncharacteristic of him. 

The dynamic inside the locker-room has changed, too. Morgan used to be one of the funnier guys as they pumped each other up before games or after one of Babs’s particularly harsh critiques. But now, Morgan doesn’t say a word. He stares silently at the coach, his face placid and focused. He doesn’t joke around with his teammates anymore. Instead, he forcefully orders them around, uncaring of anyone’s emotions. It doesn’t seem to be a big problem, yet, but Jake doesn’t know what’s going on at all.

There comes a day when Jake wakes up and finds half of their home empty. Well, his home, now. The place isn’t actually half empty, because Morgan chose to leave most of the furniture behind, taking only the items littering his own room. It only feels like the condo is even more empty because Morgan's presence is gone, but Jake should’ve gotten used to that a long time ago. 

He pads out of his room, barefoot and without a shirt, overly-warm from the heating in their condo. (Dammit,  _ his.)  _ Morgan had always complained about the condo being too cold in the fall and winter, so they always turned the thermostat up. Jake was the one who had to take layers off instead of Morgan piling layers up. Jake doesn’t have to do that anymore. 

He walks until he’s in front of Morgan’s room. The white door is still shut and closed as if Morgan’s having his alone time or whatever, but Jake knows he isn’t there. He almost knocks on the door, out of habit, but he realizes how stupid it would be to do so and stops himself at the last moment. He turns the door handle, pushing the door open with a little hitch in his breath. 

And it’s just what he expected it to be: empty. 

His chest feels empty and hollow like something life-sustaining is missing. Jake holds onto the feeling, tries to get used to it. He knows he’ll be feeling it for a long time. 

Later that night, Jake finds a bottle of red wine hidden in the back of their cupboards after trying to make dinner. (He felt like he needed to somehow become an adult now that Morgan was gone.) It’s one of the bottles Morgan bought when they went Christmas shopping last year. It was supposed to be a present for one of Morgan’s family members, but Jake realizes now it was just a ruse for Jake to buy Morgan wine. 

Jake ends up ordering in Italian—a plate of pasta, comfort food. It isn’t anywhere on the meal plan, being so chock full of carbs and unhealthy fats, but Jake thinks he’s allowed to have a cheat day once in a while. He ends up downing almost half of the wine— straight from the bottle and uncaring of the taste—before he realizes he really shouldn’t get drunk before a game day. 

The alcohol makes him more than a little bit tipsy, but he’s not flat out drunk yet. He makes some pretty bad decisions along his journey, posting a video of Morgan juggling groceries at the supermarket that he’d saved a few months ago. He thinks he didn’t make any spelling errors, so that’s fine. It doesn’t seem like he’s making any bad decision at the time, because that’s just how he is after he drinks. He has less of a hold on his self-control, and he ends up doing whatever’s on his mind. 

After he corks up the bottle of wine with a sad smile, he retreats to his bed. The condo is quiet and dark with all the other lights turned off. He pulls the covers tighter around his body and wills the ache in his heart to vanish. 

It doesn’t. Instead, he can’t stop thinking about Morgan. 

***

Nothing gets better. Even though Morgan officially moved out some two months ago, it still feels like Jake can’t find his footing. 

“You okay?” Naz would ask, tilting his head and shaking his head just a little. 

Jake would look up, terrified that he was caught, that maybe his feelings for Morgan slipped out or something, and then smile hesitantly, “yeah, I’m fine bud.”

It never goes further than that, because Naz would leave. 

He knows that Naz is checking up on him because his own game hasn’t been good at all. But, then again, they all still suck. 

One day, after practice, Jake gets to the locker room a little later. Most of the guys are probably in the shower, so he expects the room to be mostly or completely empty. When he walks in, there’s no one in the room. However, he hears muffled noise coming from the lounge. He strips out of his jersey and pads quickly. He’s ready to hit the showers when he realizes the muffled noise is Morgan speaking. The tone of his voice sounds harsh and angry, straddling the line between passionate speech and terrifying yelling.

Jake stalks to the lounge hurriedly, under-armour still clinging to his skin. 

“What’s going on?” Jake says worriedly. 

He walks into the scene of Willy sitting on one of the big, leather couches, body curling inward as he faces Morgan. They both haven’t showered, their hair still matted with sweat. Willy looks beyond scared. There’s a glossy shine to his eyes that Jake can infer to be indicative of tears. His cheeks are flushed with an angry pink, indicating his embarrassment. He clutches at the leather cushions with an iron grip. 

And then there’s Morgan—standing up, glaring at Willy with a frown that Jake has never seen before on his face. Morgan’s face is scary, not just because he’s angry, but because there’s poison in those eyes. It feels like it's slowly killing Jake when Morgan averts his gaze to him. Jake feels like, somehow, he isn’t allowed to be there. It feels like Morgan is four years older than him instead of the opposite way around.

“Nothing, alright,” Morgan huffs, placing his hands on his hips. He runs a hand through his stringy hair with an impatient hand. Jake’s traitorous heart thumps once. Morgan points a finger at Willy. “Remember what I told you.” The sentence makes Jake shiver, so full of faux-authority and anger. 

Morgan tries to walk out of the lounge, his movements stiff and harsh. Jake stops him with a hand around his arm. He tries to pull Morgan close.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Jake whispers to Morgan, eyes flitting to Willy, who's still curled against the cushions. Jake feels anger rising within him. 

Morgan shakes his hand free with a scoff. The action is akin to ripping off a bandage, to Jake at least. “Nothing, I already told you. Mind your own fucking business.”

And then Morgan’s off, leaving the room feeling ten degrees colder than it did before. Jake tries not to tense up; he still has to talk to Willy. He shoves his own feelings away. 

“Hey, Will,” he says as softly as he can. Willy looks at him hesitantly, different from his usual, nonchalant self. “Scooch over, bud.”

Willy moves, biting his lip. He looks like he has something to say, but he holds it in. Jake makes sure to not encroach upon Willy’s personal space. 

Jake ponders how he should word his question. “What, uh, what happened?”

Willy looks up at the ceiling; it causes more light to reflect from his eyes. “Nothing. You heard Mo.”

“Willy, come on.” 

They stay in silence for a moment before Willy starts to speak. 

“He was talking about my mistake, during the scrimmage,” Willy shrugs. 

“What? When you turned the puck over?”

“Yeah,” Willy says. He looks at his hands.

“Come on, Willy. There must’ve been more. I heard yelling.”

“Well, yeah,” Willy drawls, “there was yelling. But I get it. It’s fine. It’s what Babs tells me anyway.”

Jake is left there blanking for a second. “Willy, you know, it’s not great for Mo to be yelling at you over a mistake that you can definitely fix.”

Willy slouches into the couch. 

“If it happens again, tell me, okay?” Jake looks at Willy. 

Willy groans, “okay, okay. Can I go now?”

Jake can’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, you can go.”

“Great,” Willy says, as he climbs over Jake, kneeing him in the thigh on purpose.

“Ow,” Jake says fakely and watches as Willy shuffles away. 

He pretends that he didn’t hear any sniffles and sighs to himself. He needs to talk to Morgan.

***

“Hey,” Jake nods to Naz as he slips into the seat beside him on the bus. 

Naz looks up from his slouched position and slowly takes off his headphones. He gives Jake an incredulous look. “Why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” Jake smiles as he slaps Naz in the arm once. He lets out a sigh as he settles into the seat beside Naz. 

“I swear to god, if it’s about you and Mo, I don’t wanna get involved,” Naz scoffs as he shoulders Jake once. He settles his headphones around his neck and pushes Jake as retaliation.

“Look, Naz, I just need you to switch rooms with me. Only for tonight, alright?”

Naz stares at him. “You think I’m dumb?”

“Come on, man,” Jake pleads. 

“I don’t want to wake up the next morning and find out you’re dead. Or, have Mo pissed for the rest of the road trip.” 

“You know that’s not gonna happen,” Jake laughs. Naz raises his eyebrows. “Okay,  _ probably _ not gonna happen. The first one, at least. I hope.”

Jake makes a face.

“Man, if I switch rooms with you, Mo might kill me too,” Naz points out. 

“But he'll kill me first, though.”

Naz nods. “Okay, yeah, but still. My life is on the line here.”

Jake sighs and shakes his head. “Dude, who cares about your life? I bet you’ve noticed, too, that something’s off with Mo. We need to do something about it, yeah? Isn't that more important than your life?” 

Naz takes a moment to think about it, looking extremely constipated as he does so. “Goddammit, Jake, fine. Fine, I’ll switch rooms with you.”

“Hell yeah, Naz. You’re helping a lot of people by doing this, you know,” Jake says, holding a fist out for Naz to tap. 

Naz gives him a look like Jake’s stupid. “We’re all gonna die.”

“Aw, come on, be positive.”

Later that night, as Jake stands outside the door to Naz and Morgan’s—well,  _ his _ and Morgan’s—room, he says to himself, “I’m going to die.”

Then after a minute, “Morgan is going to throw shit at me and then leave. He’s probably going to throw my own fucking cologne at me, that he  _ stole  _ from me, and then I’ll bleed out.”

Jake pauses. “Fuck, I’m going to die.”

Jake shakes his head. Dammit, he’s not going to die. Morgan won’t kill a man; he won’t let himself go to jail. He jumps up and shakes himself off. His heart is beating hard, partially from the nervousness of having to face Morgan and from some sort of pseudo-excitement at the prospect of seeing Morgan. 

He needs his body to make up its goddamn mind; why is his heart beating so much?

Jake exhales heavily and finally swipes the keycard to the door. There's a beep and a flash of green light. He pushes the door open with one hand, the other shouldering his bag. 

“Took you long enough,” Morgan scoffs as the TV plays in the background. It’s been a while since Mo spoke to him in a tone as mild as that. It causes Jake’s heart rate to spike a little more. 

Jake can’t see Morgan from the entrance, so he guesses the only reason Morgan is so calm is that he doesn’t know it’s Jake. He walks in hesitantly, closing the door behind him gently. He can see now that Morgan has already changed, wearing a soft pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Jake can’t help but smile to himself at the sight that had been so common in his life. 

“Yeah,” Jake clears his throat, “had to tell Bozie I was here tonight.” Jake’s stomach drops as he sees Morgan’s muscles tense. 

And then he finally makes it to the bed closest to the door, the one that Morgan isn’t occupying. He gets a good, complete view of Morgan lying down, sprawled on his bed. Jake has to swallow a few times, in spite of his nervousness. 

Morgan props himself up to a sitting position using his arms, a crinkle appearing in his forehead. 

“Why are you here?” Morgan asks, frowning. 

Jake bites his lip. He can’t sell out Naz, can he? Well, there’s no other way to be roomies with Morgan unless he asked Naz. Plus, Naz is a big boy; he can handle himself.

“Uh, ‘cause I switched with Naz,” Jake says. 

“Yeah, okay, I can see that since you’re here instead of him. But  _ why _ did you switch rooms with him?”

Shit, Morgan never makes it easy. 

Jake drops his bag down at the front of the room, next to Morgan’s, and sits down heavily on the other bed. He shoves a hand through his hair. “I had to, Mo. I had to. I don’t know what’s been happening… between you and everything, but I don’t like it.”

Morgan falls back onto the bed with a loud, frustrated sigh and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. He covers his face with his hands for a moment—deliberating, Jake can tell—before opening his mouth several times. The look on Morgan’s face—the angry, tired, sad look—makes Jake bite his lip again. He feels like he might be making the kicked-puppy face, but he can’t help it.

“Man, what are you on about? Nothing’s been happening. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Morgan rolls away from Jake, so he’s facing the wall. 

A rush of anger rises up in Jake. Morgan should know that he wouldn’t be able to blatantly lie in front of Jake and get away with it, especially since Jake knows him so well. Jake is the one who watched him grow up from a wet behind the ears teenager to a somewhat-functioning adult. Jake is the one who fell in love with him—with all of Morgan’s ridiculous qualities, good and bad.

“Morgan, come on. Stop joking around, this is serious. It's fine if you want to ignore me. I don't care, do it all you want. But don’t fuck with the team, yeah?”

Morgan turns around sharply, “I literally haven’t done anything to the team. I’m just trying to step up and be a fucking leader.” The scowl on his face is unnatural, out of character. 

Jake can’t help but stare at Morgan incredulously after that statement. “Dude, you can’t be serious. Stepping up means ripping Willy a new one for a mistake that doesn’t even really matter that much?”

“If I don’t tell him he’ll never fix it!” Morgan points out furiously. 

“But maybe that’s what the coaches are there to do! You weren’t the only one who caught the mistake, Mo. But it wasn’t a mistake that he should’ve been chastised over!” And then, softer, "he's just a rookie."

Morgan wipes a hand over his face, angrily. “Goddammit, Jake! You don’t know anything! It doesn't matter who he is!” 

“I know enough. I know that even you realize that what you did was a mistake, too. You know it matters that Willy's a rookie. So why are you being so stubborn about this?” 

“Shit,” Morgan sighs. “I'm not stubborn about anything. Nothing’s changed.”

“Fuck, you know that’s not true! Just tell me what’s wrong,” Jake pleads, staring into Morgan’s eyes. Morgan turns his face as soon as Jake tries to make eye contact. “Tell me the truth. What happened when you spoke to management a few months ago? That's when this started, right? What did they say to you?”

For a moment, it looks like Morgan might tell him. The expression in his eyes is full of guilt and anger, but mostly anger at himself. And then it’s like a wall was put up. 

“It’s none of your business, fuck,” Morgan says heavily. His face is pink with exertion. 

“Morgan, please,” Jake whispers. 

Morgan closes his eyes. “Don’t talk to me, Gardiner.”

***

So, when the season ends, they’re met with disappointing stats and the prospect of being last in the league. Jake doesn’t want to say ‘I told you so’, especially not about something as grim as predicting the team’s downfall, but it feels nigh for the course. It all kind of fell apart after Morgan changed and brought the rest of the team spirit down with him. Of course, that’s not to say it was only Morgan’s fault—because it wasn’t. 

It was all of their faults, equally. 

When Jake goes back to Minnetonka for the off-season, it’s with a heavy heart and a frown on his face. There’s the fear of what the next season will be like, since the wheels fell off early on, and none of them bothered to put them back on. He doesn’t want to believe that this will be the future of the Leafs—dreary, impassionate, without a spark in their locker room. He doesn’t want to believe that this is what Morgan will be like for the rest of his career. 

There has to be hope, right? 

Jake asks himself that question many times during the summer. Sometimes, it pops out when he’s out fishing with his dad; when he’s playing golf with a bunch of his old high school friends. 

Sometimes, he wonders what it would’ve been like to still be best friends with Morgan—best friends, and nothing more. Maybe Morgan would’ve called him again when he went on another spur-of-the-moment trip to Vancouver Island. Maybe Jake would’ve gone with him, instead, watching the sunset as Maggie made a mess of herself from the seawater. Maybe Morgan would’ve come to Minnetonka, instead, and Jake would’ve been able to take him to the lake or something—would’ve taken him to someplace where the nature is as wild as the looming forests in British Columbia. 

But his fantasies are ill-fated; they have no existence in reality. And it takes effort to be optimistic. But playing for a team like Toronto, in a city so full of downbeat and critical fans, optimism and hope are values that are vital to surviving. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, the canes v leafs game was yesterday, and i, frankly, am disappointed at the lack of 4451 content there was! or even the lack of 51 content in general! smhhh


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You like me?” Morgan yells. “Like, presently? Currently? Romantic feelings?”
> 
> “Don’t rub it in,” Jake groans. 
> 
> “Goddammit, I like you too!”

The new season comes with a wave of new teammates, introducing a fresh and striking sense of hope tinged with poignant bittersweetness to the team. The rebuild had started, leaving behind only the future. Jake knows that the introduction of new players is best for the team, but the loss of others still hurts—still stings deep. 

Yet, the passage of time seems to be speeding up in its winding journey. For Jake, the days that once passed at a snail’s pace are flying out of his control. It's obvious that something has changed in Jake’s mentality.  _ Time flies when you’re having fun. _

But even so, there are days when each second drags on, like the slow drip of a leaky pipe, while simultaneously holding the quality of being too fast. On these days, Jake thinks about Morgan. 

There’s a lot that Jake thinks about when Morgan is in his mind and the content of those thoughts depends on how much self-control he has, which is close to a negative value most days. But most of the time, it starts like this: a reminiscent memory, a positive memory, that leads into an analysis of the disappointing relationship that they now hold together or the lack thereof,—into an analysis of how Morgan has changed,—into an analysis of Jake’s failures throughout their… acquaintance, if it could even be labelled as that. When this happens, he thinks too much yet not enough. It feels like he’s turned over every rock, inspected each and every memory he has of Morgan, yet nothing accounts to anything. There are no connections that he makes, despite having pondered over an issue for what seems like hours. There is nothing that helps him; he doesn’t even know what it would be helping him do in the first place. 

And sometimes,  _ sometimes, _ he likes the pain that thinking about Morgan brings him. The reason, and it’s a convoluted, terrible reason that shows Jake is a masochist, is because he gets to relive the memories where he had Morgan. Because the pain comes with being able to see Morgan, even though all of it is only occurring within his mind, only a set of electrical impulses. 

But it’s fine; he’ll welcome the electrical impulses if he can see Morgan juggle random shit in Whole Foods again, both of them getting kicked out for being too rambunctious. He’ll welcome them if it means he gets to smell his own cologne on Morgan again, even if he had to abruptly put an end to whatever conversation they were having because of a flare in his primal desire. He’ll welcome them if it means he gets to celebrate with Morgan after a hard-won game, or a well-deserved goal that either of them scored. He’ll welcome them if it means Morgan speaks to him. 

If Morgan speaks to him… If Morgan shuts down the toxic “leadership”... If Morgan will finally become Morgan again. 

If.

But now is not the time for ifs. It’s not the time for anything save for the nurturing of their new players, fine-tuning—or coarse-tuning, really—their team dynamics for the seed to take hold and sprout. 

Jake may seem like too much of an optimist, but it feels good this time. The rookies are interesting, fun, talented. They have  _ Auston Matthews, _ which is a miracle in and of itself with the tragic nature of Leafs luck. They have Mitch Marner, a sweet boy that Morgan seems to have set his eyes on. Add in a handful of new, yet seemingly hard-working and reliable players like Zach and Freddie, Jake really feels like the team is heading in a new direction.

Hopefully, a new direction that leads to success, no matter what kind it is. 

***

By the beginning of the new year, the team’s beginning to look better as a cohesive unit. The transition period is over; there are no more excuses if they begin to collapse and display a lacklustre performance. The new players are said, to an extent, to be assimilated into the team. They know the expectations of the coach, the general manager, the  _ organization. _ It doesn’t matter how young or old they are, nobody will get off easy if they begin to fuck up after a five-game win streak. 

It seems like Morgan, out of all the players who weren’t new to the team, is the person who is most affected by this new shift in perspective. Jake can empathize, there’s no way there isn’t a paradigm when you switch from a ‘just came last in the league’ mindset to a ‘might actually make the playoffs’ mindset. The psychological evolution should have helped Morgan, nurturing him back into the thoughtful, generous player he was a little more than a year ago. 

And, like, it’s not to say that Morgan hasn’t  _ changed, _ it just doesn’t seem to have been a change that was entirely good for him. His actions speak of the difference in his thinking, confused yet ameliorating. 

One day, Jake goes back to the dressing room after they have a practice with purpose and his face set in a determined manner. He sits down in his stall, stripping off his gear with mechanical fervour. His focus isn’t on his gear. He keeps his gaze affixed to the entrance, waiting for Morgan to enter. He’s seen, that day, the way Mitch made a turnover during their practice scrimmage—just like Willy last year—and the way Morgan’s eyes sharpened at the sight. Jake’s expecting a commotion just like last year, yet, this time, Jake will be prepared to intervene before anything commences.

He watches as Morgan finally enters the room, stalking mad and angry on his skates. Jake stiffens, muscles tight as he stops unlacing his skates. He still has the bottom half of his pads on, but he isn’t afraid to sacrifice his dignity over Mitch’s protection. Out of all the rookies, Jake has a special affection for Mitch; the justification for it stemming from nothing except the effervescence and juvenescence of Mitch’s personality. He watches as Morgan walks past Mitch’s stall towards his own with tentativeness and hesitancy. 

There’s a jolt that goes through Jake’s body when he realizes Morgan isn’t going to berate Mitch for his blunder like he did with Willy. He looks in surprise as Morgan bites his lip, hesitantly, and shifts his gaze to Mitch’s stall. He sees Morgan shake his head before stripping off his gear with shaky precision. There’s a drop of sweat that rolls down, down, down from Morgan’s hairline to the crevice of his exposed collarbone. There’s another jolt that streaks through Jake’s body, this time he wills himself to ignore it and turn away. 

After this event, there are multiple thoughts that Jake comes up with. Morgan has changed—maybe most of it owing to Mitch. He’s seen Morgan slowly dismantling the concrete walls that separate Morgan as a person from the rest of the team, the action beginning after the persistence of one Mitch Marner. There isn’t anyone, himself included, that can withstand the infectious affections of that young man. 

It also seems like Morgan has figured out the problem involving his approaches to enacting leadership. It might’ve been Morgan noticing the subtle shifts in the dressing room into a place where everyone has become more involved with the wellbeing of their team. Or, it might’ve been sparked by other examples set by their new teammates. 

Jake remembers when Marty had been talking to Mitch about something he wanted Mitch to improve after practice. Morgan was there, eyes wide as he witnessed Marty slowly chastised Mitch with a balance of constructive criticism and gentle compliments. The fire in Mitch’s eyes, the desire to become better, and his determination could not have been missed by anyone. 

Yet, these shifts in thinking have caused Morgan to become more withdrawn in general. He didn’t speak up as much whenever they were watching tape anymore, choosing instead to stare a hole into the carpet. Morgan, even though it seemed impossible, started interacting even less with his fellow teammates, everyone except for Mitch. It seems like the meaning of leadership was something that Morgan both obsessed over and sought out. It causes him to question his own self. 

Jake can’t help but wonder if the meeting with management had something to do with this obsession. Maybe it’s time to try again—to try and fix things for the last time.

***

Weeks later, Naz walks into the lounge with his angry face dialled up high. Bozie follows him with a similar expression. Jake stares at them both, surprised. He doesn’t say anything and waits for them to sort themselves out.

Naz grabs a Gatorade and slams it down on the table. Jake flinches a little. Okay, he’ll bite. 

“Hey, what the fuck’s going on?” Morgan says as he enters the lounge with his hands on his hips. Well, at least he saved Jake from having to ask a question.

Naz grits his teeth and turns around to look at Morgan. “Babs told Mitch to make a list.” 

Morgan makes a face, “what? What does that even mean?”

Bozie pushes Naz aside with an arm and scoffs, taking a seat next to Jake. “Can’t you explain things properly? Babs told Mitch to make a list that ranked all of us from the most hard-working to least hard-working. And then he fucking told us. We were at the bottom of the list.”

Jake blinks a few times and lets the information sink in. He can’t help but let out, “holy shit.” 

“That’s right, ‘holy shit’,” Naz huffs out angrily. 

“Wait, hold the fuck up. Why the fuck did he do that? What type of sick manipulation is this?” Morgan says. It seems like he’s also riled up. 

“I don’t fucking know!” Naz yells. “But it’s so fucked up. God, I just want to—”

“Uh, what’s going on?” a voice says. It’s Auston. He seems confused and concerned. Jake wouldn’t blame him; he’d also be scared if a bunch of his older teammates were yelling. 

“Babs told Mitch to make a list of the not-hard-working players and then shared it with them!” Morgan yells. 

Jake’s surprised at how protective Morgan is being. 

“What?” Auston says, a wrinkle showing in his forehead as he scrunches his brows together. “Woah, the fuck?”

Bozie nods, “right?”

“So where’s Mitch then?” Jake pipes up. 

Naz turns, “I have no idea. I wouldn’t be surprised if the kid fled and went home already.”

“Fuck,” Auston says, “I’ll text him and ask.”

“Good,” Morgan nods with a steely tone. 

Morgan’s face is hard and shielded. Jake wonders about what could be going on inside his head. 

Auston’s face twists as he stares at his phone. “He’s not—he’s not saying.”

“Goddammit,” Morgan curses. “I bet he’s hiding in the janitor’s room or something.”

“Then let’s go,” Jake says.

Morgan turns his attention to Jake. His face is surprised when they make eye contact. Jake hopes he understands that he’s willing to put aside the shit between them for Mitch’s benefit. Morgan’s eyes go wide, but he nods anyway. 

“I’ll come with you guys,” Auston says, turning toward the door.

“No,” Morgan says, “let us go first.” He looks at Jake once. Jake nods back. 

“But—” Auston starts. He stops when Morgan raises his eyebrows at him. “Fine.” Auston’s jaw clenches.

Morgan softens his gaze. “Be there for him, okay? He’ll need you, too.”

Auston’s nods are stilted, but they’re affirmation despite that fact. 

“Make sure he’s good, yeah?” Naz says with his Gatorade in hand. 

“Like you need to ask,” Morgan scoffs, and motions for Jake to follow him. The small seed of hope in Jake’s chest grows. 

They walk out of the dressing room, leaving behind an angry-looking Auston. Jake peeks behind him, smiling a little to himself as he sees Auston’s clenched fists. He knows how it feels to be that protective of someone. 

He lets Morgan lead him around, content to follow behind him silently. He wants Morgan to be the first one who says something. 

“I bet he’s in the janitor’s room or something,” Morgan says. He doesn’t turn around to look at Jake and his tone is hesitant. Jake can’t help but smile. 

“Yeah? Why would he go there?” 

Morgan shrugs, “it’s Mitchy.”

Jake nods his head up at Morgan, even though Morgan isn’t looking at him. “Since when did you and Mitchy get so close?” The question is mostly a joke, but Morgan’s answer could draw many implications. 

From Morgan’s reaction—a falter in his step and a tensing of his shoulders—Jake knows that Morgan understands what he was aiming for. 

“It’s Mitchy,” Morgan repeats. “It’s tough not to be close to him.”

Jake lets that response linger in the air and nods in accordance. It’s definitely true; Mitch forces a close bond with everyone, regardless of any circumstances. But Morgan didn’t answer in the way that Jake wanted to. He didn’t answer the underlying question.  _ When did you throw me aside? _

The heavy silence is broken when Morgan stops in front of a door and says, “he’s probably in here.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Jake moves to the opposite side of the door and lets Morgan knock on it before opening it gently. 

“Mitch?” Morgan calls out softly, peering into the room filled with cleaning supplies. 

Morgan enters unhurriedly, with slow, calculated movements. Jake follows him. He looks around the compact concrete room. He sees a head of hair in the corner farthest from the door. Morgan rushes towards Mitch and kneels down. 

“Hey, you okay, Mitchy?” Morgan starts. “Me and Jake are here.”

Mitch lifts his head up from the bowed position it was in, showing his red-rimmed eyes, pink nose, and messy hair. He’s hugging his knees to his chest, making him seem impossibly small. Jake feels an urge to smother him and hide him from the world. It seems that Morgan wants to do the same.

“Mo?” Mitch says weakly, his voice sounding crackly and nasally. 

“Yeah, it’s me, bud,” Morgan smiles. Jake kneels down next to him.

“Hey Mitch,” Jake smiles. Mitch turns to look at him. His blue eyes look bigger and wider than normal; it makes him look scared. 

“How, uh, how’d you guys find me?” Mitch sniffs and wipes his face on the shoulder of his t-shirt. 

“Morgan knew,” Jake says, trying to keep his face happy and encouraging. 

“Oh,” Mitch says dumbfoundedly. Jake can tell he wasn’t expecting to be found. 

“Are you okay, Mitch? We heard from Naz and Bozie about what happened,” Morgan says. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Mitch says and looks down at the ground. 

“Hey,” Jake nudges Mitch. “You don’t need to lie in front of us. Babs shouldn’t have done that, okay? None of us are mad at you.”

Mitch whips his head up. “I didn’t mean any of it! I really didn’t!” He flips his gaze between Morgan and Jake, pinning them with such an earnest look that even the heavens would have brought down retribution on the one that caused him hurt. “I know all of you work so hard, much harder than me, but he forced me to! I wouldn’t have put anyone else except for me at the bottom.”

“Shh, it’s okay, Mitch, we know you didn’t mean it,” Morgan shushes him with a hand to his shoulder. “You’re doing fine, Mitchy. You work hard, we can see it. It takes time, but don’t… don’t believe that you have to learn anything from this, okay? This whole list thing means nothing.”

“Yeah, Mitchy, just focus on hockey. Don’t worry about impressing Babs or whatever. Just play your best game,” Jake smiles. He nudges Mitch. Mitch shoves him back out of habit and nods. Jake laughs. 

“Okay,” Mitch says. His voice is still quiet and small, but Jake knows that he’ll bounce back as a stronger person.

“That’s it, Mitchy,” Jake says as he ruffles Mitch’s hair with a hand. Mitch slaps his hand away with a scowl, and Jake can’t help but laugh again. 

Jake turns to look at Morgan and accidentally catches his gaze. He’s about to turn his head away and simmer in embarrassment before Morgan gives him a small, genuine smile. Jake’s stunned as his heart jumps heavily once, twice, thrice in his chest. 

***

“I need to talk to you,” a voice calls out from the door of Jake’s hotel room.

Jake jolts from his bed, where he’s scrolling mindlessly on his phone. The voice doesn’t sound like Bozie, but it does sound a lot like—

Morgan. 

Jake doesn’t dare move a muscle as Morgan barges into his room, all bared thighs and bulging biceps. He watches as Morgan stares into his eyes with a strong determinedness that Jake hasn’t seen since Morgan moved out of their condo. Jake’s missed it. He’s also missed the way he felt whenever that gaze was directed at him. 

“I need to talk to you,” Morgan repeats, this time standing at the foot of the bed Jake’s lounging on. 

“Where’s Bozie?” Jake asks instead. 

“I told him to leave,” Morgan says and sits down on the opposite bed, facing Jake. The action is so Morgan that it makes Jake’s chest hurts. 

“You’re a real menace, Mo,” Jake laughs. He can’t help the slip of his tongue, can’t help how easy it is to pretend that there’s nothing wrong between the two of them.

Morgan scowls. “Shut up, man. I came here for a reason.”

“Yeah?” Jake’s heart is pounding. “Then go for it. Talk to me.”

Morgan blinks. He’s surprised, probably at how easy Jake gave in to his demand. Jake wants to say that he’d be willing to do anything Morgan wants him to, regardless of their relationship.

“Fine, then. I’m sorry.”

Okay, Jake wasn’t expecting that. It’s his turn to be surprised.

“I’m sorry about what I’ve done,” Morgan continues. “I ignored you and… and it wasn’t what I should’ve done. I started being such an asshole, but I didn’t know how else I could’ve been what management wanted me to be. I know these are all excuses, but I just want you to know that I regret ignoring you. I want us to be best friends again.”

Jake’s face softens, his lips pulling up at the corners. He tells his heart to slow the fuck down and tries to not reach for Morgan.

“Hey, it’s alright Mo. I get it. It’s okay, I understand. I mean, it’s weird for your best friend to have a thing for you, right? I’m just glad you’re willing to be friends with me again.”

Morgan’s brows furrow, a touch of confusion and annoyance on his face. “Wait, what? Hold on, what are you saying, Jake?”

Jake hesitates. “I thought that was the reason you ignored me. You didn’t like that I had a crush, or whatever, on you.”

“Was that what management meant by being ‘too intimate’?” Morgan mumbles to himself. 

“Mo, what’d you say? Was that not it? Fuck.” Jake falls back on his bed. Dammit, so that wasn’t why Morgan started ignoring him. He just hated Jake for his personality. He wants to hide in the janitor’s closet just like Mitch. 

“Wait, so you liked me,” Morgan tries to affirm. 

Jake covers his eyes with his arm. “Well… I don’t know if it’s past tense or not.” 

“You  _ like _ me?” Morgan yells. “Like, presently? Currently? Romantic feelings?”

“Don’t rub it in,” Jake groans. 

“Goddammit, I like you too!”

Wait. 

“What?”

Morgan bounces up. He paces around the room fitfully, smacking a hand to his forehead. “God, how was I so naive? Why did I believe him? There wasn’t—there wasn’t anything wrong with how I was acting.”

“Morgan, you  _ like _ me?” 

“Yes, I like you! I’ve liked you since, like, I don’t know, I moved in. Now shut up, I have to think.”

Jake tunes out Morgan’s incessant babbling for a second and processes the information. Morgan  _ likes _ him. He’s liked him for the past two or three years. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know why it took him so long to find out. They could’ve… 

“You’ve liked me for that long? Why didn’t you tell me? Why’d you ignore me?” Jake can’t help but question Morgan. 

Morgan stops in his pacing and throws Jake an incredulous look. “I don’t know, I don’t think I knew it myself. But Lou told me to, so I did.”

Jake thinks that over in his head. Lou told Mo to ignore him? He waves Morgan over. “Stop pacing, come sit here.” 

Morgan raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t say anything and sits in front of Jake on his bed. 

“What did Lou tell you to do? Was this that meeting before you moved out?”

“Yeah.” Morgan bites his lip. “He told me to move out because our relationship was getting ‘inappropriate’. I was supposed to be a leader, apparently. Look how that turned out.” Morgan laughs sarcastically. 

Jake slaps a hand to his own forehead. “You listened to that? Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“I thought we were doing the wrong thing!”

“But you realize now that we weren’t doing anything wrong, right?” 

“Yeah, now I do. I know now.”

Jake shakes his head with a sad smile. “Good.” 

He looks at the mad and indignant expression on Morgan’s face and thinks to himself,  _ I love this stupid man. _ He sits up, leaning into Morgan’s personal space, and repeats again, “good.” 

Morgan looks a bit shocked, but it fades away into a soft smile. Jake tentatively reaches a hand out and brushes the hair out of Morgan’s eyes, eventually setting the hand onto Morgan’s cheek. He leans in a bit more.

“Is this okay?” Jake asks. Morgan shuffles closer.

“Yeah,” Morgan answers, still smiling, and closes the gap in between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's complete :')   
there were times when i thought i wouldnt be able to finish it but... i surprised myself lmao  
i might be willing to write an epilogue (but that's probably not happening)  
yeah i wrote the whole mitch thing WHAT ABOUT IT

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt:  
so not sure how intense you wanna get with mo/jake, but an au where they're grooming rookie morgan for the c and they tell him his ~friendship~ with jake isn't becoming of a captain to try and separate them since rookie mo was flirty and heart eyes for jake all the damn time. cue angst and not enough communication because morgan does want to be captain and does want to make his team proud, but he wants jake too! obvs they get together in the end and love wins out!
> 
> anyways, thank you for reading! if you liked this fic, please leave a kudos. and if you really liked it, leave a comment down below. tell all your friends and come yell with me on tumblr @mitcheemarns.


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